Where Angels Fear to Tread
by Child of the Ashes
Summary: A string of vignettes featuring the more private moments between Ichigo and Orihime. Some fluff, angst, AU, and whatever else I can find. Sibling piece to Fools Rush In. Hard R.
1. Chapter 1

Authorial Notice:

Okay, I followed the awesome advice I received from several of you and reworked this story. You will no longer find it full of lame sexual platitudes, always a plus. Please let me know what you think, I survive on feedback.

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…For fools rush in where angels fear to tread.

-Alexander Pope

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Title: Wolf at the Door

Disclaimer: Yes

Warnings: Um, lots of hot sex.

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Orihime stared down her most ancient foe, wrench in hand and shivering.

"So it's come to this?"

Narrowing her gaze, she pointed her weapon at the metal fiend.

"I have come past your laser equipped penguins and I have survived your man eating wolves. Now, it's just you…and me."

Without warning, the icy air became unbearable. She gasped, dropping to her knees. How could she have forgotten about her enemy's surprise attack? And now, her hesitation had cost everything.

The wolves were back.

She ran, ditching her only defense in favor of gaining speed. If she could make it to her lair, she would be fine. She could see it up ahead. Orihime threw herself across the entrance and quickly closed the path behind her.

There. Now they would never get in.

Except she was wrong. They were already inside. On the far side of the cave, a lone wolf slept. She knew this wolf. He was the fiercest and strongest of them all. She had to be careful. Any movement could arose him from his slumber. And beneath his fur, he had a secret weapon.

But Orihime had a secret weapon as well.

Lowering herself into a crouch, she slowly advanced, careful not to make a sound. All she had to do was get close enough and the power of her touch would redeem his spirit.

She slipped her fingers under the blankets.

"Holy god, that's cold!"

Ichigo yelped, bolting straight up in the bed and throwing a startled glance around, assessing the current level of danger. He spotted Orihime, hands still outstretched with a look of enrapt fascination.

She smiled and tilted her head to the side.

"The heat's out again."

Ichigo collapsed back into his pillow.

Orihime giggled. "You should have seen your face. Priceless."

He peeked at her from underneath his arm.

She was scrambling out of the bed with a squeal and had almost cleared the edge, when strong arms pulled her back.

"Ichi…Ichi, I'm sorry! I won't do it again!"

"That's what you said last time."

He growled, rolling her over and pinning her with his weight. She struggled under him and he smirked when she finally gave up, flushed and breathless.

"But, but I mean it this time."

"Mmm…" He tugged the collar of her shirt aside and nuzzled her throat, inhaling deeply. "You said that last time, too."

Her soft moans filled the room as he ran his tongue from her shoulder to her ear, nipping the sensitive flesh along her jaw.

"I can't help it. Your punishments are addictive."

He pulled back to look at her, eyes dark and amused.

"That so?"

She loved this game. The game where she ran and he pursued, except that it wasn't a game at all really, because no one ever lost. He glided his hands to the hem of her shirt.

"What was it this time, space invaders?"

In one smooth motion, he yanked it up and over her head, then tossed it across the room.

"N-no."

"No?"

His hands danced across her stomach, sliding up her rib cage and over her breasts, before slipping around her shoulders. He lightly drew his nails down her back and she arched against him.

Soft light played over her body, filtering in through the curtains, throwing curves into sharp disparity. One pale pink nipple flashed at him around the swell of her breast and he hardened, grinding against her.

"Terrorist spies?"

Panting under him, Orihime whined and wiggling her hips so that she could get better contact.

She shook her head, jarring strands of long auburn hair into disarray.

His fingers slid the skimpy lace barrier down her legs, dropping it to the floor before he jerked his own shirt up and over his head. Her eyes followed every movement and he smirked, standing before her completely bare, letting her look her fill.

Nothing could have prepared him for Orihime.

Back when they had first gotten together, her innocent expressions and benign words had perfectly served to hide her insatiable sexual curiosity. He had been completely caught off guard.

He stood in front of her as she found every line of his naked body with her eyes. Her breathing frayed and she didn't seem to notice that her thighs parted in invitation.

Ichigo crawled toward her, committing her expressions to memory, stopping between her legs.

"What was it?"

She blinked, swallowed.

"Antarctica."

Running a finger down her navel, he arched a brow.

"And what happened…in Antarctica?"

She drew a shaky breath, watching his finger continue on its path.

"W-wolves…there were…nhmm..."

It slid into her easily, knuckles brushing the soft skin on either side. He shuddered, not bothering to hide it as he met her gaze.

"You have to be careful with wolves, Orihime. They'll eat you alive."

Her eyes widened as he lowered his head, his tongue gliding up her cleft. She jerked and twisted with every slow, sure lick. He withdrew his finger, only to push it back in again and she cried out as his tongue brushed the sensitive flesh at her peak.

Her legs fell apart, giving him complete and unrestrained access to her body. She writhed under his mouth.

When her first release came, she threw her head back, keening. But he wasn't finished with her. He growled low in his throat as he felt her muscles contracting around his finger, but he didn't stop. He pressed his tongue harder, faster, shoving his fingertip against that place inside her, right under the edge of her pubic bone.

She mumbled incoherently, shivering and shaking, riding the sensations he gave her.

Ichigo didn't stop until she came again, harder than the first, almost wild in her reaction. Only then, did he cease his ministrations, withdrawing his hand from between her legs. He crawled up her body, slow and deliberate, like a stalking beast. His breathing labored.

Then he was inside of her, moving over her, powerful and hungry. He groaned against her mouth, before slipping down her collarbone and tracing it with his teeth, letting his hands slide over heated flesh. He played her body like a well-loved instrument, strumming her curves and gliding over her, confident and persuasive as he coaxed her into frenzied bliss.

He wrapped her in his arms, holding her tightly to his hardness as she came around him, muscles tightening, almost painfully, and he lost himself to it, groaning, thrusting into her with hard shallow strokes, filling her with heat, and completely emptying himself before collapsing on her chest.

She stroked his hair, smiling while he regained his breath.

"Did you learn your lesson?"

Orihime smiled wider.

"Yes, Ichi."

He sighed.

"Good. I'll go fix the heater."

Rolling out of bed, he tugged his jeans on while she snuggled into the pillows.

"I don't know how that thing keeps breaking."

"Mmm…me neither."

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A/N

Did you like it? Let me know what your favorite kinds of IchiHime sexiness are, maybe I can work some of them in. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Authorial Notice:

I'm not descriptive enough? Wow, you guys are perverts. But, okay! Message received. I have attempted to lower myself into the depths of depravity, just for you. :)

I am not kidding. This grew a mind of its own and went… _places_. Bad, bad places. It is not soft or cuddly in any way. Really, I might move it into the HichiHime section. Possibly. Who knows?

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Title: The Edge of Sin

Disclaimer: Yes, please.

Warnings: Kink, voyeurism, dominance, references to non-consensual sex, and most likely, typos. I did not hold back on this. Consider yourself warned.

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She moaned. That was what stopped his futile struggling, his mindless shouting at his hollow from his inner world.

Ichigo sat gaping at the reflection that appeared in the window's surface. He could feel his face pulling into lines of complete blank shock as another shivery sigh slipped past her parted lips. How could she enjoy the things _it_ was doing to her?

But she was. It was obvious, even to him.

It was roughly molesting her, possessively taking her mouth and charting out the unexplored territory of her body. And on some level, she was enjoying it.

He should turn away. Stop looking. He commanded himself to move as his fists clenched and he leaned his shoulder into the concrete wall.

There was just too much shock to move, too much fascination, too much envy to drag himself away from the glass and his bird's eye view of his hollow's activities.

Pervert! He railed at himself.

But he couldn't stop. He was held transfixed by that one little sound, by that one little sign that she wasn't actually going through hell. He grit his teeth as his hollow smirked, apparently very much aware of Ichigo's sudden silence. Then without warning, it jerked her shirt open, sending buttons flying and scattering.

Inoue gasped, eyes flying open.

The hollow didn't seem to notice as he pushed her roughly onto the bed, drinking in her helpless distress as she tried to right herself. Ichigo fought the urge to cry out, to demand his hollow give him back control. Yelling would be a useless gesture, one that _it_ would probably enjoy.

He closed his eyes, swallowing thickly.

This was all his fault.

He wanted excuses, justifications, but there were none and he knew it. She had trusted him. There had been so much concern in her sweet face when she had opened that door. Then it pounced on her, while Ichigo shrieked and fought and even pleaded from the cage of his inner world. He had always known his hollow was a danger to the people closest to him, but he had never expected _this_.

He opened his eyes.

He felt them trace over the exposed lines of her throat, neck, shoulder, and finally lower, to the swell of her breasts that expanded with every breath, straining against the delicate lace of her bra.

He spat a curse, feeling himself respond, reacting to the sight of her body…Or was it his hollow reacting? He didn't know, but he could hardly breathe and he couldn't take his eyes off her. Damn it. She had curves. Curves where a woman was supposed to be curved.

His hollow moved over her, grinning and pleased. He pushed her skirt up and parted her trembling legs, grasping her inner thighs and forcing them wide, revealing soft cotton. Ichigo tensed almost painfully, expecting it to fall on her, to take her brutally, but it just sat back, considering her with a look of dark amusement.

This patient side was new. It wasn't something Ichigo had ever seen from his hollow. But of course it could be patient, it had all the time in the fucking world.

Ichigo slammed a fist on the window's sill, not caring that he cracked it. Mocking laughter resounded from the world around him.

_Careful, King. That might be your home from now on. Hate to see you break it so quick._

"You fucking bastard! You're a coward going after her. If you want to fight me, I'm right here."

There was just enough pause to make him wonder if it had worked. Then a derisive snort.

_Maybe later, I'm busy right now._

Ichigo whipped his head back to the image. It had her pinned beneath it, arms trapped over her head as it conquered her mouth, holding her to the bed with one hand on her ribcage. She whimpered and twisted under him and her knees came up, brushing against his hips, her body begging.

Ichigo shivered as he felt his hollow's lust flood into him, hot and thick. A sick weight settled in his stomach, even as he grew hard.

He was going to hell. No, this _was_ hell.

He yelped registering sudden movement. The hollow sat back on his heels, jerking his belt to release the clasp and then tugging his jeans open. Ichigo swallowed, hands tightening on the sill as he glanced at Inoue's face to gauge her reaction. His mouth fell open, stunned by her look of unbridled curiosity and the sight of her body still moving, very slightly, writhing under the invisible touch of his gaze.

He groaned, letting his head thump back into the wall.

Unclothed the hollow watched her, giving his erection one leisurely stroke before crawling back up her figure, dragging his nails over her thighs, her stomach, her shoulders, leaving little red trails wherever they went. She gasped and panted, arch her body and uttering wordless pleas. Then it jerked her bra up, and Inoue cried out as his teeth grazed the underside of her breast before he licked and nipped his way to the top.

Holding his breath, Ichigo watched her face as the hollow darted his tongue out to taste the hardened pink nipple. Her eyes widen as a silent cry parted her lips, then they darkened, their light turning carnal. She sighed long and loud.

Ichigo felt his body strain at the sound, swollen and hard, impossible to ignore.

She inhaled sharply as he moved to the fabric covering her sex, his fingers pushing it away, brushing the soft skin of her lips before working their way inside. The hollow dropped his head to watch his fingers push into her, growling, appeased.

"So fucking tight."

Ichigo squeezed his eyes closed, leaned his forehead against the glass, groaned and forgot how to breathe.

Fine. He was a fucking pervert.

His hand slid down to the tie at his waist and he pulled it free without taking his eyes off Inoue.

He hesitated before brushing his painful hard on, but the gasp he heard wasn't his own. His hollow hissed in pleasure, momentarily losing focus on his own task.

Ichigo scraped his eyes over Orihime where she fidgeted against the invasion, reflexively riding his hand. The hollow smiled, pulling back and licking his fingers slowly, savoring the taste. His eyes traveled between her face, her breasts and her spread legs. He dug two fingers inside her, forcing them in as she squeaked, then relaxed, moaning and dropping her head back to the pillows. Then he withdrew them again, following the same pattern.

Ichigo was breathing fast, hard. He wrestled with himself one last time before he gave in completely. He wasn't kidding himself. He was hard-core into this. It was wrong, and he didn't have any excuses, but he was doing it anyway.

He panted as he watched the hollow withdraw, satisfied that she was ready for him. Then he hovered over her and Ichigo held his breath, both fearful and mesmerized as he took himself in hand and pushed in to her.

Ichigo grit his teeth as sensation shot through his body and he heard Inoue cry out. Guilt lanced him at the hint of her pain. He staggered before sliding down the ledge, boneless. The hollow had buried itself in one long smooth stroke. He banged his head against glass again, sickened, turned on.

The hollow held himself rigid above her, savoring the sensation of being inside her, before he pulled out, watching her shocked face as he slid back in, admiring the way her breasts moved with his pulse. Then he dug his knees into the bed, slid them up and thrust into her, hard enough that his hipbones hit hers and he groaned, almost a growl, as Orihime's strangled cry echoed off the walls. Then he pulled out and back in just as hard, having to hold her body down by the hips to keep it resistant against the force.

He fucked her. There was no other word for it. He plunged into her over and over again, violent and urgent, making low noises in his throat.

Her gasps and whimpers were like music, Ichigo let them guide his movements with their rhythm, bringing his hand up and around the tip, lightly dragging across his skin, squeezing almost painfully on the way down, experiencing the reactions from his other self as well, pushing him closer, goading him into tumult.

Without warning, the hollow pulled away and Ichigo couldn't hold back the frustrated twist of his mouth, mirrored in Orihime's whimper of disappointment. He grit his teeth as his counterpart smirked, all derisive mirth and proud arrogance, as he slid off the bed, dragging Orihime to him by the ankles until she hung off the side. Then he shoved back in, wrapping her legs around his waist and Ichigo could see her toes curl.

Her body jerked and her breasts bounced, pulled back and forth by his surges, but he didn't slow or relent. He was too absorbed by that point. Ichigo thought that even if she hadn't been panting and receptive, the hollow would have continued, wrestling her down if he had to, just wanting to own her body and take it and use her until he had his fill, and soaked her in his release.

Ichigo tried not to think about it, but he could feel his erection twitch, agitated against his palm, encouraged by his perverse deliberation.

The hollow growled, hissing curses and commands, speaking words Ichigo couldn't hear, voice low as he pounded ceaselessly into her. Whatever he said, she responded, her noises changing, becoming urgent and fevered. She was squeezing her thighs tight enough to leave marks on his sides as he shifted, taking her harder and faster, the bed thumping the wall in time to their furious movements. Ichigo could see the muscles flexing in his back as he arched against her, not bothering to hold back the sounds of his gratification.

Ichigo felt moisture leak from the tip of his erection and groaned as it slipped under his palm, lubricating his harsh jerks and tugs. So close. He was trembling with the force of it.

The hollow dug his toes into the carpet, leveraging for traction, slinging one leg over his shoulder and using it to hold her to him, losing any rhythm in a frenzy of need. His fingers dug into her thighs and her cries filled the air as the bed banged loudly. She was gasping, riding the waves of feeling as he thrust deep inside her, stilling for just a second then groaning loudly as hard muscles tensed then relaxed.

Ichigo felt his body release in the same instant. He trembled, hissing and gritting his teeth, failing to hold back a choked sob in the back of his throat as he watched the hollow come inside her, pressing as far in as he could, pulling out, then pressing back in again and again, until he was empty and spent.

Panting, Ichigo watched the hollow shift her limp body back up the bed before he was catapulted out of his inner world, shot to the surface and back into his own body, rapidly blinking his eyes.

The hell?

Then fatigue hit him and his muscles shook, feeble and weak, trying not to crush Inoue as he fell beside her.

Inoue.

Was she hurt? Stupid. Of course, she was.

He forced himself to his knees, ignoring the protest of aching muscle as he grabbed her arms lifting and inspecting, cataloging every bruise and scratch over the surface of her body and vowing to pay it back.

"Again?"

His fingers stilled on her inner thigh as he lifted his gaze to meet sleepy grey eyes. She smiled, exhausted and he could see her pulse beating in the delicate chords of her throat.

Then she blinked, focusing.

"Oh, you're back. That's good."

He gawked at her.

"I was worried that it would be hard for you to get back."

Ichigo shook his head, incredulous.

"Worried? You should have been fucking terrified. He—"

She giggled. "Kurosaki-kun wouldn't hurt me."

She said it so certainly that he was lost for a response, feeling the need to crawl away and hide from the overwhelming faith shining in her eyes.

He swallowed.

Orihime fought heavy eyelids as sleep lured her. "Will you stay?"

Remorse tugged at the corners of his mind, and he wouldn't have denied her anything she had asked in that moment.

He lay down alongside her, pulling a cover over her tired form and after everything, he was shocked to feel her arm drape across his chest. Letting his head fall back, he pulled her closer, relishing her soft body pressed against his harder one. And eventually, he fell asleep, listening to her peaceful breathing and content just to hold her.

A/N

Well? Was that naughty enough for you?

Going back over this, I'm kind of embarrassed to have written it.


	3. Chapter 3

Authorial Notice:

Alright, if you're back to this story, I'm guessing you weren't too emotionally scarred by the last one-shot. That's great!

I had intended to make an AU piece, but I'm not sure that this qualifies. Anyway, this was inspired by that smexy hot pic of Ichigo from the end of chapter 459.

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Title: The Other Side of Forever

Summary: Orihime is reborn into a new life, but not everyone has moved on.

Warnings: Just a little bit sad at the end, sort of and not really.

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Taking a deep breath, Orihime sat her coffee down and tuned serious eyes on her best friend.

"I think…" She bit her lip before trying again. God, this sounded ridiculous, even to her. "I think I have a demon lover."

Her eyes flicked up to catch what would surely be an explosive reaction, only to draw down into a frown. The dark haired girl across from her reached to pick up a bagel, taking a bite before setting it down again. She didn't look up from her book.

"Oh, yeah?"

Orihime's frown deepened, nose wrinkling. Slumping down into her seat, she looked out the window, watching cars and pedestrians hurry by. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of orange hair and black robes. She swallowed, hands shaking, but of course when she looked again, there was nothing.

"Yes."

"Is he hot?"

Orihime turned back so fast her neck cracked. "I'm serious!"

Her friend sighed, setting the book down and looking up for the first time. "How is this different than the ghosts that live in your apartment? Or the circus animals stealing your newspapers?" When Orihime only looked back out the window, she sighed again. "Why do you think you have a demon lover?"

"I keep having these dreams."

"Dreams?"

She nodded, flicking a blueberry around her plate.

"But they're… you know." Orihime lowered her voice. "Explicit."

She watched her friend's eyebrows shoot up into her spikey bangs. "You're having dirty dreams? Is that all?"

"Sometimes, I see things."

"Fantasies, then." Her voice held a note of certainty. "That's common. Not exactly a supernatural conspiracy."

"But—"

"No. Orihime, this is probably the most _normal_ problem you've ever had. There are no such things as demons. There are no ghosts. Circus animals don't escape just to torment you with petty larceny. Stop worrying about it and enjoy your dreams like everyone else."

()()()

"I don't know what to do Enraku… Do you think I'm crazy? That I just make all this up in my head?"

Enraku looked at her from the sofa, his slender tail beating a staccato rhythm into the couch cushions. It was a little comforting that he didn't respond. She was certain he would have said something if she really had lost it. Then again, she was asking for advice from a dog.

Groaning, Orihime glanced at the clock again. It read 2:38.

She pushed a hand through her hair. She needed sleep. Maybe that was the problem. Sleep deprivation. That made people believe all sorts of irrational things.

Orihime spun, as the shadows cast by her small lamp seemed to grow. Shivers raced up and down her back as Enraku snarled, fur rising. She reached for him.

"Enraku?"

His growl ended in a whine and he darted out of the room, leaving her alone. She swallowed, stepping back into something solid and warm. Stumbling as she turned, Orihime already knew what she would see.

He stood dark and tall against the dimness of her apartment, ruffled by an invisible wind, shadows still clinging to his strange black clothing. And it seemed to her like he was constantly in motion, even though he had yet to move. Only his bright hair caught the light. It hung in front of his eyes in places, making them difficult to read.

His expression was somber. Brow tensed and eyes full of knowledge, like someone who had suffered a great loss and mourned it bitterly. That part always hit her hardest. The longing she felt coming off in waves, because she thought she should know_ why_.

Like someone walking over her grave.

Orihime shivered.

That was silly. No matter how familiar he seemed, she didn't know him. Had never dreamed of him before a month ago. Not before her eighteenth birthday.

"Who _are_ you?"

Hot tears slid down her cheeks. He didn't answer, just continued to watch her with those too intense amber eyes, following their slow progress along her face. If she had been dying or he had, she might have understood a look like that, she might have understood why _she_ was crying.

He had tried once to speak to her, the first night. She had been terrified. Then after a few tenuous moments, he just shook his head. He hadn't tried again.

Stepping forward, he closed that last small space between them, jaw tight and body tense. The skin on her arms tingled as he brushed his palms over them, gently, as if she would shatter and disappear any moment. He dropped his head to hers, grazing his cheek over the wet trail left by her tears, smearing them against his own face.

Electricity sparked everywhere they touched, stealing her breath and tossing her head first into a torrent of riotous emotion. She surrendered, allowing him to press a trail of feather soft kisses across her temple and down her neck. His hands stroked up the smooth muscles of her back, catching in her hair and angling her face up to his.

The kiss was so tender she couldn't tell exactly when it began. It was sweet and slow, but it burned with primal hunger, low, just under the surface. Then something broke. Orihime was hauled up. He pulled her into his arms, never breaking the contact of his mouth against hers.

Moving to her room, he laid her on the bed, leaning over her, slowly unfastening buttons one by one. She panted, lost to the sensation of his lips gliding over the newly exposed flesh. Her shirt was brushed aside as his hands ghosted over her skin, sending tongues of fire radiating outward, winding her into a vortex of need.

Fevered kisses followed his hands over her stomach, her sides, then up to her breasts still covered in delicate lace. She mumbled nonsense, her body arching into the caress. Her skirt was slipped from her waist, carefully set to the side.

His gaze caused another wave of shivers as it glided over her body and she swallowed, pushing herself up. Tucking her legs under her, she rose onto her knees, eyes never leaving his as her hands pushed the kosode off his shoulders with trembling movements. She traced out the ridge of his collarbone, ran her fingers over his shoulders.

Orihime jumped when his forehead dropped against her shoulder and his arms came around to pull her closer, tightening until it was almost painful. With one last kiss to her shoulder, he laid her back, unclasping her bra before removing the tie that held his own clothing in place.

Breathing was difficult as she watched smooth muscle slide into sight, her hands clenching in the sheets. Then he came back to her, heating her body with his, moving over her. He kissed her mouth. Slowly, deliberately.

Her underwear was drawn away, replaced by the brush of fingertips through her folds. She whined, her head lifting and falling, wanting more and not knowing how to ask for it. Licking her lips, Orihime tensed when he guided a finger into her, and then moaned in sweet relief as he set an addictive pace. She arched her body, restlessly wiggling against his motions.

His hands moved skillfully, one between her legs while the other strayed over her belly and up to her breast, brushing an erect nipple, causing her to gasp. Orihime rode the friction of his finger to the edge, squirming under his touch, perched on an invisible precipice. He leaned forward, running his tongue over the nerves perched at the top of her sex and she was lost. Her strangled cry was the only thing she could hear over the pounding of her heart.

He cradled her head, coming back to kiss her lips, his mouth more urgent, more insistent. Then he pushed into her, unable to hold himself back any longer, groaning against her mouth as he entered her. She shivered at the sound of it, pleasure shooting up her spine. Orihime cried out, wracked with pent emotion and still sensitive from his previous ministrations.

He laved her breasts with his tongue, nipping at the crest, causing Orihime's legs to tighten reflexively around his waist. His rhythm was as irresistible as the tide, pulling her into a chasm of sensations. Her inner muscles tightened around him, tensing. She tingled everywhere he touched, pressure and fire building in her nerve endings, sending her soaring, cascading into a heated abyss.

His hands moved to her neck, tilting it back so that his mouth had full access, licking and kissing, thrusting into her. She curled her toes as wave after wave of pleasure stroked through her belly, winding her until she snapped, shattering, keening. He claimed her mouth as his muscles tensed and released, pulsing heat deep into her body. He shuddered, still moving until her sighs quieted and he had wrung out every drop of pleasure she had.

()()()

Orihime awoke to find herself alone except for Enraku curled at the foot of her bed. Sighing, she looked at the moon through the gauzy curtains hanging over the window.

Just a dream.

She blinked as something flashed and sparkled at her from the window. That was strange. She didn't remember setting anything there and no one else came into her bedroom. Sliding to the edge of her bed, Orihime's hand froze midair as she realized what she was seeing.

Setting on the ledge was a pair of hairclips. A small blue flower decorated the tip of each and she knew without looking that they both held six petals.

"Oh, god…"

She fell to the floor, legs refusing to support her. Pain shot through her heart, through her body, as the world once again shattered and rebuilt itself into something impossible. She remembered this.

She remembered _him_.

"Ichigo."

()()()

A/N

I really hope that wasn't confusing. I had my doubts. Please feel free to let me know if I left anything out or wasn't clear enough. I mean, I guess there's supposed to be a certain amount of mystery :)

Review?


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Paroxysm

Summary: Inoue's sick and Ichigo is Ichigo.

Warnings: Nope, it's pretty soft-core.

Word Count: 2,295

Authorial Notice:

Uh, yeah. I know, there are a million other things I was supposed to be working on, but when I sat down to type, this is what came out. And it's much longer than I thought, so I hope you like it!

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Ichigo trudged up the steps to Orihime's apartment, her school books tucked under one arm and his hands shoved into his pockets. He pressed his lips together and glared at the stairs in front of him, ignoring the slight sting of a bruise forming under his left eye. It wasn't that he minded taking Inoue her makeup work, he just sure as hell wished Tatsuki would learn to ask a bit nicer.

Taking a deep breath, he paused at her door, shaking raindrops out of his hair before knocking.

Not that his grumbling and bad mood wasn't justified, but still. Inoue had been pretty sick, or at least sick enough to miss school for most of the past week. He should probably wipe the irritated look off his face before she came to the door.

Except she never came.

Frowning, he knocked again, louder. It wasn't like her to leave someone waiting. More often, Inoue was in such a hurry to answer, that she couldn't be bothered to actually _go around_ anything lying in her path. Pounding with more determination, he waited, listening for movement before cursing. He took a few steps back, wondering how mad she was going to be about the door.

Ichigo hurled his shoulder into it, shoving with all the force he could muster. The wind whistled out of his lungs as he bounced off the surprisingly solid surface. He scrambled to get his feet back under him, flinging out his arms to stop his descent. His hand closed around something solid and round, and the door creaked open as he tumbled through.

He blinked at the carpet.

It wasn't even locked? What the hell?

Climbing to his feet, he looked around. Her apartment was lit by a small lamp in the corner, casting a dull yellow glow over the room, creating just enough light that he could see her.

She was on the couch, eyes closed and skin flushed. Even from across the room, he could see the circles under her eyes and the fine sheen of sweat clinging to her forehead. Her hair was a mass of tangles where she had been moving restlessly in her sleep, the blankets twisted around her legs.

Dropping her books on a table, he kicked the door shut before making his way over. Her head hung slightly over the side of the sofa. He only hesitated a second before slipping a hand under her neck and lifting her back all the way onto the couch, looking away from the thin fabric of her nightgown stretching tight across her chest as he settled her back.

He frowned at the heat clinging to her skin and glanced up when she sighed, her forehead tensing then relaxing. A muscle tensed in his jaw as he ground his teeth, deep in contemplation. She didn't look good.

Ichigo ran a hand through his hair. He could call his father, explain the situation and hope the ridiculous bastard didn't give him too much hassle about it later. Although, she probably wouldn't want that and it was possible that she just needed more rest. He sighed. On the other hand, fevers were dangerous and got out of hand quickly. Shit.

"Kurosaki-kun?"

Ichigo started, peeking down to see Inoue watching him with sleepy eyes. Her normally soft voice seemed quieter, breathy and distant, like it was coming from far away.

He gave her what he hoped passed for a reassuring smile. "Hey."

"I'm dreaming again…"

He shook his head, his brow wrinkling.

The blankets rustled over her legs as she moved to sit up. She blinked. "Why are you here?"

"I brought your homework." Ichigo swallowed as the lacey strap of her nightgown slipped down her shoulder. "How… uh…" He swallowed again, forcing his eyes up. "How do you feel?"

Orihime stared at him for so long, he wasn't sure she would answer.

"They came back…"

She licked her lips and he fought not to squirm. God, she looked vulnerable. Helpless—

"Wait, what? Who came back…?" Panic and anger swirled around his chest. "Someone was _here_?" He took her by the shoulders, gently shaking. "Who?"

Releasing her when she didn't answer, he dug through his pocket for his phone and had the first three digits dialed when she spoke again.

"The little people… They put cotton in my head."

Ichigo gaped at her.

"And they stole my gravity. I walked on the ceiling."

One heartbeat. Two. Three.

"Inoue, have you taken anything for your fever?"

She blinked again, tilting her head in thought before indicating a bottle on the coffee table behind him. "I forgot."

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and moved to get a glass of water.

Kneeling beside her, he shook out two pills and made sure she swallowed them. She drank the entire glass and panted as Ichigo took it from her slackened hand.

"Better?"

She nodded, wiggling back into her nest of blankets.

Ichigo stood and turned away, trying to get some distance. It felt _strange_, her staring at him that way. All lingering looks and heavy lashes. Damn, it felt like he was the one with the fever.

"Wait."

He glanced over his shoulder. "You need something else?"

"Will you… talk to me? Just for a little while?"

He shouldn't. Even he could tell she was irrational, not quite coherent. And the cream colored lace was still dangling down her arm. The smart thing would be to call Tatsuki and tell her to get her ass over here. Why had she even thought this would be a good idea in the first place?

Ichigo gathered himself before turning back. He sat on the edge of the coffee table with his arms on his knees. As soon as he stopped fidgeting and got comfortable, he looked at her.

"What do you want to talk about?"

She watched his face, making no move to start. Maybe she had already forgotten.

"Inoue?"

Her gaze drifted down the front of his shirt and he could feel it everywhere it traveled until her eyes came to rest on the hands clasped in front of him. He was dimly aware that she seemed to have gotten closer, realizing a little slowly that he was the one leaning forward. His fingers brushed the edge of her blankets.

She didn't blink as her eyes traveled back to his. "I've never been kissed before."

His lungs stopped pulling in air.

Ichigo suddenly understood the term _shocked_, because that was what it felt like. As if someone had plugged him into the wall. He had taken kicks to the gut that had less force than those words. That was the most revealing and personal thing she had ever said to him. He had no idea how to respond.

She licked her bottom lip and it glimmered in the dull glow of the light. And he really needed to look away.

"Would you…"

His eyes widened, heart pounding furiously in his chest.

"Will you kiss me?"

Every muscle went stiff, and he vaguely wondered if he looked as completely, utterly, blown away as he actually felt. It was as if she had flipped some sort of switch, his brain conveying signals, blood flooding south, his body reflexively preparing itself even before he had fully processed the request.

Her lips were swollen and red from sleep and heat. He could already feel them beneath his, soft and sweet as she yielded to him, clinging to his shoulders while he pushed that lace a little lower...

Ichigo jerked his head back so quickly he almost fell off the table.

"That's… probably not a good idea."

Her head dropped, eyes lowering, and as good as he should have felt about doing the right thing, all he could detect was his own emptiness. A lump formed in his throat as he took in her defeated posture. It didn't make sense that it should bother him so much. He _was_ doing the right thing. Not taking advantage of her when she was half delirious and didn't even know what she was saying, was a good thing. But god, it was tempting.

His stomach sank further in his gut.

She probably wouldn't even remember this tomorrow.

That thought circled his head, coming back in a very different light. She wouldn't even remember. He wasn't sure if he was thrilled or disappointed at the revelation.

Her head was back against the armrest, lashes against her cheeks as she studied the floor. A small pout adorned her reddened lips and he was caught. His movements were fluid as he slipped from the table, sliding a hand into the hair at the base of her neck.

Silver eyes flashed up and her surprised gasp was cut off as his mouth sealed over hers. An aching thrill shot through his lips, and he had to inhale sharply to bring air back into his lungs before lowering his head again. Orihime slid a trembling arm around his neck drawing him back to her and heat flared down his chest at the contact, pooling in his gut as he moved to get a better angle.

She was sweet and warm, and nothing like what he had thought. Ichigo relaxed against her, the fingers of his other hand grazing her bare shoulder, testing the softness of skin and the firmness of muscle. He wondered if the delicate flesh of her neck tasted anything like her mouth and he would have moved to find out, but he couldn't let go of the kiss. It held him, entangling him with its own desires. Like a living thing, set on consuming them both.

His tongue swept along the seam of her lips and all he could think about was finding a way in, getting more of her. When she opened her mouth for him, he groaned low in the back of his throat.

Her fingers were trailing into his hair, short nails scraping dizzying circles that would have put him to sleep if he had been doing anything else. Now they excited him, pushed him forward, made him both strong and boneless. He took control of her mouth, pressing deeper, his body throbbing painfully, anxious to find more of her to explore and far too eager for him to continue down this path. He needed to stop.

Her whimper broke the kiss. It sounded wild and reckless, and it sent a shot of pure adrenaline down his spine. The feeling was so intense that he gasped, light flashing behind his eyes as he fell back on his knees.

He panted openly, one hand still wrapped in her hair and the other fisting her top at the waist.

Her lashes fluttered and a smile tugged at her lips. "That was nice."

She blinked once, then twice and her eyes drifted closed as her breathing evened out into light exhales of sleep.

Ichigo stared at her for a full five minutes before his brain kicked back into gear and he unclenched his fingers, letting them trail free.

_Nice? _

He licked his bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth to see if any of her taste was left. There hadn't been anything _nice_ about that. It was… It had been…

He stood, swiping a hand through his hair and looking at her. Reaching down, he tugged a sheet up, making sure she was covered before heading to the door. He paused with his hand on the knob, looking back to see her chest rise and fall with her breathing. He opened the door, twisting the lock behind him he let himself out.

()()()

Ichigo sneezed and scrubbed a hand over his clammy face before slumping over his desk, exhausted.

Keigo was buzzing somewhere in the background, but Ichigo was so tired he couldn't even work up the energy to hit him. He groaned, dropping his head to the cool surface below as Inoue materialized in front of him.

"Morning, Kurosaki- kun!" She bounced on the balls of her feet, flashing a smile so bright that it made him wince just to look at it. "Oh, no! You got sick, too? You should go to the nurse, right away!"

He covered his face with his hands, wondering if he could blame the flush working its way up his cheeks on the fever. "I'm fine."

She frowned, a sullen pout pushing out her bottom lip. "I feel so bad, I must have got you sick…"

His back stiffened and he watched her from between his fingers.

"Uh, w-why do you say that? I could have caught this anywhere."

"Hmm. That's true. I just thought it made more sense, because we kissed."

The room went quiet, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Tatsuki's head very slowly rotating his direction.

Ichigo stood so quickly that his chair clattered over. "You know, Inoue, I think you're right. I should go to the nurse—"

He fled, leaping over his fallen chair and heading for the door, all earlier traces of fatigue forgotten as he felt Tatsuki's fingers groping for his neck. Suddenly, he felt like he could run a marathon.

()()()

A/N

Yeah, somewhat of an abrupt end, but unless you guys want the detailed beating that follows, this was as good a place as any.

Your reviews make me do a happy dance, so _please_… make me happy :)


	5. Chapter 5

Authorial Notice:

This chapter is the continuation of a series of one-shots I did for my HichHime collection. It can be read as a stand-alone piece or if you would like to read the first three parts, they can be found in Fools Rush In. Just follow my profile link.

I will warn you now though, the first chapters are intense.

()()()

Title: To Catch A Tiger – Part 4

Warnings: Just the usual strained angst that comes from housing a homicidal split personality. And probably typos.

Rating: Reasonably safe.

()()()

Ichigo swallowed, legs buckling as he sank to the couch and put his head in his hands. He wanted to cry. He wanted to throw up. He wanted her to find him and tell him that everything was all right, and nothing had changed.

If she hated him… If she screamed and ran… It would be nothing more than he deserved. Still, some traitorous little part of his mind hoped that she wouldn't, that someday she could forgive him. He would apologize every day for the rest of his life if that was what it took. Anything... _Anything_. Just as long as she didn't hate him.

When he woke up that morning, the haze of mingled rage and desire that usually accompanied his hollow had still clogged his mind. Disoriented, tangled with sleep and exhaustion, he had struggled to remember what had happened. The last thing he remembered was standing in front of his mother's grave. After that, there was nothing but a handful of images and scattered memories, each more horrifying than the last.

Lying beside Orihime on the bed, one arm over her stomach one hand clenched painfully tight on the pillow, he had struggled to breathe. He didn't have a clue what to do, afraid to look at her, afraid of what he might find.

Paralyzed with fear, he waited for her to move, to sigh, to do anything that might tell him she was still alive. It seemed like forever before she shifted, moaning in pain as she worked for a comfortable position. The sound of it stabbed through his chest more painfully than any sword.

He pulled back, careful not to move her as he sat up. But the sight of her made his stomach turn and his hands shake. Deathly pale, he had jerked out of the bed, stumbling free of blankets and fleeing.

It had only taken him until he reached the living room, before he realized it was no use. There was nowhere to go and even if there had been, he wouldn't leave her there to wake up alone. It wasn't something he could run away from. She probably needed medical attention. There was no telling what kind of perverse torture his hollow had concocted and forced her to endure. He couldn't leave, but he couldn't go back and see what he had done either.

He felt Orihime behind him before he heard her footsteps, and seeing her broke every last hope for self-control that he had left. He braced himself, gripping the edge of the couch, shaking and trying to force himself to meet her eyes.

When she sat down, he flinched, hands tightening, not daring to touch her.

"Kurosaki-kun?" She talked quietly, as if a harshly spoken word might frighten him away. "Are you okay?"

She was asking him that?

His fear twisted into frustration, self-loathing clawing his gut, even though that was exactly what he had wanted to hear.

"It's alright."

He thought he would choke on his own words. "It's not. I… I hurt you. I'm sorry, I don't know… What did I do? What about the others? Did I…?"

"You didn't do anything. I'm not hurt and no one else saw you."

He hissed, fingers leaving the couch to dig into his palms as anger welled inside him. "That's not true."

Orihime stiffened, but didn't deny his words.

Everything was still too raw, his temper still too fresh, his hollow and all his intense emotions so close to the surface. He couldn't trust himself around her right now and it hurt. Small fingers hovered over his before she brushed them lightly. His eyes slipped closed at the contact.

"I really am okay."

Before she could pull back, he snaked his hand around hers, pushing the sleeve of her robe up. Dark purple bruises encircled her wrist, turning his expression dark. "I remember doing this… You looked so scared."

Orihime dipped her head into his line of sight, meeting his gaze with a solemn expression. It sent a wave of chills flitting down his spine.

"I'm not afraid of you." When he still didn't respond, she sighed. "You left, so I snuck into the bathroom to take a shower, thinking I would be back before you, but… I wasn't." She frowned, a light pout decorating her lips. "It wasn't the smartest idea I've ever had, but you didn't hurt me."

He stood, dropping her hand and pacing a circle, dragging a hand over his face.

"I should have realized something was wrong sooner. I could have told someone. When this happens, when he takes over…" Ichigo hesitated, because there was no need to explain what she already knew. His chest hurt, a lump forming in his throat as he said the hardest words. "To think that I forced you to be with me, that I forced you in any way… It makes me sick. Can you… Will you be able to forgive me, someday?"

"Forgive you?"

He nodded, waiting, not looking at her, not wanting to see the blow coming.

"I don't understand. If you had left, I would have been sad. If you had tried to go through something like this alone… And, you told me to leave. Before you changed, you told me to run away and I waited too long. I didn't listen, that was my choice."

Ichigo turned back and blinked. That's right, he had told her to run away. _My choice._ He shuddered as the weight of those words sunk in. She was saying everything he had hoped, but it was still hard to accept.

Orihime pulled her hands into her lap, picking at the cuffs of her robe. "You didn't force me to do anything I wouldn't have done anyway."

She spoke so softly, he wasn't sure he heard her right and was vaguely aware his mouth had fallen open. Heat crept up his face. _What?_ What did that mean?

"It's part of what you are, and I trust you."

He couldn't think of anything to say in the face of something like that, so he just watched her hands fidget with her sleeves.

"Are you sure you don't need a doctor? You sounded hurt, this morning."

It was her turn to blush, stammering out a mumbled reply. "Well… it was two days, and I didn't get much rest…"

Ichigo swallowed then swallowed again.

"Oh." It was best not to answer that and they were quickly running out of safe conversation.

Her stomach rumbled loudly in the quiet room.

Ichigo rubbed the back of his head, something in his shoulders loosening slightly, because it was so _Inoue. _He realized for the first time that she wasn't just saying those things for his benefit. And that didn't make it better by any means, but maybe… maybe, it was on the way to _being_ better.

"Why don't we get you something to eat."

Her face lit up and before he knew what was happening, she had launched into a list of all the foods she had been missing the last few days. Disappearing down the hallway, she returned dressed and dragged him, stunned, from the apartment, still listing every food that had ever crossed her path while his hollow's self-satisfied laughter echoed through the back of his mind.

()()()

A/N

Have I mentioned how random this story was?

Anyways, that's the end, and even though it seems like it could have gone somewhere else, I promise it will not. This was one of those ideas that seem great at the time, but yeah, not so much.

Review? Even if you just want to tell me what a sick mind I have, I still love to hear from you!


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